


Why a Cat?

by silenceofafallingstar



Series: Beginnings of things [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Writing, Cats, Fluff, M/M, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceofafallingstar/pseuds/silenceofafallingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just...walk...away...Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I’m going to do this aren’t I?”</p>
<p>The cat sitting calmly in front of Dean blinked lazily—once—twice—as if the man’s obviously lowly status deigned no further response. </p>
<p>This is so poorly written I don't even know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why a Cat?

**Author's Note:**

> Erica, I hope you know I love you.   
> Don't read this.  
> Please.

No. Nonono. No.

 

Dean, just walk away now.

“Just...walk...away...Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I’m going to do this aren’t I?”

The cat sitting calmly in front of Dean blinked lazily—once—twice—as if the man’s obviously lowly status deigned no further response. 

“I don’t even like cats, and I’m fairly sure they don’t like me either. I’m allergic for God’s sake!” Dean’s voice rose higher and higher as he paced outside the shop window, attracting some curious looks and not a few well-aimed glares from rushed passers-by. The cat in question continued to sit quite still and stare at Dean, the only motion coming from it being   
the systematic flicking of its tail from side to side and a couple of ear twitches.

How could Dean be so goddamn foolish? Was he actually considering this? If so, it had to be because of that stupid forlorn expression on Cas’ face the last time they spoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had been watching some discovery channel show on TV after dinner when Cas had come in with an expression part-hopeful, part-determined.

As he looked at Cas from the arm of the couch where his head rested, he noticed that his friend was wearing his sweater, the blue one. It went quite nicely with his eyes, and-

Wait. Was Cas saying something? Oh shit.

“Sorry, what?”

Cas sighed and tried again. “I said, Dean, I wish to speak with you.”

Dean sat up on the cough and muted the television. “Oh god, is this about the stain in the carpet by the armchair? Dude, I swear I can expla-“

“No, this is not about that, though we are going to discuss it at some point, now that I know.” Dean wilted under the briefly stern look which emanated from Cas before his face regained that odd quality. “Um.”

Cas trailed off, staring at a spot just over Dean’s shoulder. Now that he really looked at him, he seemed more than a bit uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot and shooting glances around the room.

“What’s up, then? C’mon, sit down on the couch, no need to look as awkward as if you were trying to explain to your Aunt Jeannie that the apple she ate was actually purely decorative.”

Dean glanced at Castiel with a smirk, only to find that he was giving him a blank, confused look.

“I do not understand either your use of simile or the fact that fruit would be in any way devalued by its decorative characteristi-“

Dean pulled him onto the couch by his shirt, cutting him off. Unfortunately, in doing so he miscalculated and Cas ended up on top of him in a tangle of limbs. He could feel the steady heat emanating from his lithe frame and it was actually kind of nice if he thought about it...

Wait, huh?

Fortunately his mind caught up to the situation a second later and he gently pushed Cas off of him, onto the other side of the couch. In the meantime, Cas hadn’t moved at all, allowing himself to be manhandled by his dearest friend. Now he sat motionless next to Dean, swallowed in a sweater a couple of sizes too large, staring at him with slightly widened eyes.

“Uh, so what’s up Cas?”

The man in question jerked at the gentle prompting, as if being shaken from some daydream. He glanced around, as one would to check for eavesdroppers, before addressing Dean once again. 

“I have something I wish to talk to you about.”

“Dude, you kind of made that clear. So what is it then?”

“What is what?”

At this, Dean’s patience shattered.

“WHAT IS IT you want to talk to me about!?” He was practically yelling, but at Cas’ visible flinch, he regained control. “I’m sorry Cas, I just want you to tell me what you came to tell me.” 

A thought struck him. “Are you moving out? Am I too messy? I know I’m rather unorganized, but I can work on whatever-”

“No, Dean! I’m not moving out. That is, unless you want me to...I really enjoy being here, um.” He swallowed. “With you.”

Dean froze, his gaze fixated on the motion of Cas’ throat. “I, uh, I guess I feel the same way, Cas. I really like-”

He found his eyes drawn to Cas’ bright blue and they seemed to become paralyzed for a moment. Cas’ eyes reminded Dean of the ocean with sunlight filtering though the waves. He half expected to see little schools of fish swimming out of the pupil.

Woah. What were they doing? Whatever it was, Dean was reluctant to end it.

He shook himself and gently spoke. “So, Cas. What were you going to say?”

It took a moment for the words to register, but then Cas seemed to break from his trance. He straightened out and, still looking directly into Dean’s eyes, uttered those five fateful words.

“Dean. I want a cat.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cat continued to grace Dean with a blank expressionless stare from where it sat in the window. Would Dean really do this? It was just last night when he had been yelling a firm negative at Cas. 

“No, Cas. No! Absolutely not! Jesus Christ! Everyone knows that cats are the spawn of the devil. They’re pure evil buddy. We don’t want that in our house-home-apartment!” He was sputtering, trying to ignore the increasingly crestfallen expression on the face of his best friend.

“But Dean...”

“NO.”

Dean stalked out of the room, trying to make his conscience, which was screaming at him to go back and make it better, shut the hell up. He didn’t even know what he was so upset about. But he did know that he wasn’t living with a filthy, stinky, hairball-producing, yowling, cat. Ever.

Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cas wasn’t sulking. He wasn’t! Just because he had potentially ruined his relationship with Dean (or what little a relationship they had, the back of his mind grumbled) didn’t mean everything was lost. Sure, his best friend, the man he lov- Stop, Cas.

The fact that you have feelings for him doesn’t mean he has to listen to you. I mean, it’s now like he would ever ever find himself reciprocating those feelings. It shouldn’t have to affect your friendship.

But it did.

It did in so many ways, on so many levels. It did when he found himself stuck, staring and speechless as Dean walked into the kitchen, rumpled and sleepy, in only his boxers. It did when he couldn’t help but run his fingers through Dean’s hair as he slept on the couch, after gently placing a blanket over his sprawled-out form. It did when-

“Cas!”

The door to the apartment burst open to reveal a rather disheveled Dean. Why was he panting so heavily? “Cas! I, uh, I need you to, um, to go in another room real quick. Just a sec-second, I promise.”

“Dean, is everything alright?” He looked as if he had just run a mile, his face red and his hair sweaty.

“Yeah! Yeah, it is, yeah.” Was Dean—nervous? He never got nervous. Discounting, that is, that awful coffee date with that guy from work, for which Dean had asked Cas’ advice with clothing. Clothing! As if that was Cas’ strong suit. He just picked up and put on whatever was clean. The average human’s obsession with clothes and appearance was a mystery to him. 

Oh, but was Dean saying something?

“Excuse me, could you repeat that?”

“I was, uh, askin’ if you could just, go-go in t’other room?” He was nervous! Dean tended to slur his words and stutter when he was unsure of himself.

“Sure, Dean.” Cas tried to give him a comforting smile. What could he be so nervous about?

Dean smiled weakly back.


End file.
